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ChapterOne
Standing on the small bridge crossing the river that ran through the middle of our country estate, my hands trembled as I read my father's foreboding letter. It was written and sent moments before he and my mother Eliora, former Princess of Avalonia, were arrested for high treason and executed.
There was no such thing as a trial in Prince Saboa's court, nor anywhere on this peaceful planet. The prince was fair. No one was arrested and sentenced until the evidence was overwhelming. The letter that I held in my hands confirmed my parent's disloyalty, and I would be condemned because of it.
Folding the last word my parents would ever say to me, I placed it back in the envelope. Walking up the road to the front stairs of our château, I remained deep in thought. There was nowhere to run, no one I could turn to for protection.
As I took the first step to the front doors, I heard the teleportation channels click behind me. Closing my eyes for a moment, I turned to face a small contingent of the Royal Guard. They were Cyrans, just like the prince, and aliens to Praldia as much as I was. While Avalonians had mainly stayed in seclusion, Cyra had conquered and dominated any planet worth something in our system.
Even to the tall and lithe Avalonians like me, Cyrans stood head and shoulders above us. Unlike my frail-looking race, they were built to run through solid walls and were nearly unbeatable in hand-to-hand combat. They were perfect soldiers and fiercely loyal.
"Lady Zira, you are to come with me." Commander Stark stepped forward, giving a curt bow of his head.
"Commander Stark," I returned his greeting, gripping the letter as I took in the elite guard before me. My voice gave away only the slightest unease at their presence. The prince wasn't taking any chances. "I guess I should be flattered that Prince Saboa would send you to collect me. I'll change into something more suitable for court." My free hand ran over the fabric of my country dress, which I found more comfortable than the tight-fitting silks that were the fashion in the city. My eyes, however, were all for the soldiers before me.
The Commander watched how I assessed his men before he stepped forward, his face stern in the standard harsh lines of a Royal Guard. The Cyrans' mouth was not made for smiling.
"Your abilities will not score your freedom here, Lady Zira." Stark gauged what I was thinking. Relieving me of the letter in my hand, he showed me the medallion he wore. A protection amulet. "Best come with us willingly and hear the prince out before you attempt suicide."
"I guess that you're not here to kill me gives me some hope," I returned softly, understanding they came prepared to deal with one of my kind.
"You would be dead already if that was your sentence."
"I'd prefer death to enslavement."
Nodding, Stark gave me his arm. "Hear the Prince out, child. He is not an unfair ruler. Your dress is more than suitable."
Stark wasn't letting me out of his sight for a second. Taking his arm, I appraised the raised scar on the back of the Commander's hand, touching it lightly. Blinking down at my hand, Stark then met my eyes. He was brave; not many would have the balls to meet my liquid blue gaze for fear I would bewitch them. Medallion or no, my eyes could drown a man if I so desired.
"The chaos star," he murmured. "Branded upon me when I proved I could control the inner chaos of myself."
"A rite of passage?"
"Men are subject to their desires. Until we can control such, we are not worthy of being part of the elite guard." This explained his bravery looking into my eyes. Raising his large hand, Stark touched a rough finger to the dark blue star embedded under my left eye. "Even your culture has its rites, Lady."
Wondering just how much he knew of our customs, I flinched. With no more patience for further delay, the Commander took my arm. The teleportation channel closed around us with a large crack, like lightning splitting the air above my head. The earth slipped beneath my feet, the air floating me for a mere moment, then my feet hit the solid stone of a floor, jarring me a little as it always did. It all took as long as it did to blink.
Focusing my eyes, we stood in the royal palace's open court, or palats in the Cyran language.
The room was mostly empty, allowing the beautiful Crystalstar flooring to sparkle with the light filtering in from the many windows. Commander Stark stepped away with a bow to the prince, who waited, his dark eyes watching me intently. Taking a step forward, I curtsied low and stayed there.
Rising from his chair, Prince Saboa walked around me, looking me over before returning to stand before his throne. As far as Cyrans went, Saboa wasn't unattractive. Many Praldian women fawned all over him and fantasized about marrying him. I was not Praldian, and I held no desires concerning the prince.
"She gave you no trouble?"
"None, Prince Saboa," Stark acknowledged. "I believe she was forewarned." Stepping forward with the letter, Stark handed it to the prince.
Opening it, Saboa read it, then gave it to Stark to read. "It must be hard for you, Lady Zira. You've worked hard to be accepted by the Praldians, to live a just existence, only to have it all mean nothing with your parent's treason."
"I have done nothing iniquitous, my Prince. Though, I understand, after reading my father's letter, why you cannot take the chance and let me be," I uttered respectfully. Because I did understand that my parents hoped to seat me on the prince's throne.
Nodding, Saboa sat again before gesturing for me to rise. "So, what are we to do with you, Lady?" Saboa pondered. "You are innocent of your parents’ plotting. I was sure of that even before reading that letter. However, you are still a threat. I could send you back to Avalonia, but, as I understand it, because of your royal blood, you would be forced to marry the now-seated King. I would not wish that even on the lowest Praldian."
The usurper of my home planet disgusted me. He was not of royal blood and had taken the throne by force. He held the misguided impression that he could marry me and have a legitimate claim to the throne. He was why my parents had escaped here, to prevent such an abomination.
"So, our choices are limited. You can't be enslaved as a common lemming; the people would hate me for degrading you such. I either put you somewhere I feel secure enough to keep you, or I kill you."
"I agree, my Prince. I will not be enslaved to anyone." Kneeling, I sat back on my ankles, pulled my blue-black hair around to expose my pale neck, and bowed my head waiting for the death blow.
